


Jack Of Hearts

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-05
Updated: 2009-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt wanted both of them, right here, right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack Of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chamyl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Chamyl).



> This is such frigging dodgy PWP, I have a suspicion I ought to be embarrassed, lmfao. But, still, I promised this SUCH A LONG TIME AGO; written for Cham. ♥

“Bullshit,” snapped Mello, his chocolate bar suspended half way en route to his mouth, as though Matt's words had knocked it clean out of its flight trajectory.

Matt leant over him unperturbed, grinning broadly like the teenager he still, technically, was – by virtue of an inconsequential three months – and blew a lazy puff of smoke past the blond's face.

“Bull_shit_,” Mello repeated.

If vocabulary loss was anything to go by, Matt knew, then he was approximately two inches away from having won the argument.

Yes, it was true that Near had only been with them for a mere eight days. But it was also true that Mello had been pretty much incapable of keeping his eyes off of him the whole damn time – since the moment he'd first shuffled his way in through their front door, in fact. And Matt wasn't a fool. Really, he wasn't. Sure, he may never have been ranked first or second in their childhood years, but his mere _presence_ at Wammy's House had declared him a genius by default. His later status as Mello's right-hand-man and, before that, as Near's something-else, ought to have cleared up every smidgeon of doubt that might have been left, lingering, in the mind of anyone who wasn't sure what kind of IQ the fine art of goggle-wearing indicated.

Either way, Matt wasn't stupid.

He took another leisurely drag on his cigarette. He leant in a little closer to Mello, his breath practically purring against the blond's neck as he murmured, all smoke and spoken-sex, “You want him just as much as I do.”

Mello turned his head sharply, his hair flinging outwards with the whiplash of the motion and his eyes heated, as he fought for control of his expressions. He snapped, “Jesus Christ, Matt, don't say fucked up crap like that. He's right here, dickhead.”

The 'he' who was, indeed, right there, simply continued to play demurely with the house of cards that he'd been building for the last half hour or so, as though he were utterly oblivious to the world around him, as well as slightly bizarre in his choice of pastimes. But Matt, who sometimes fancied that he knew more about Near than Near did himself, was almost certain that he'd seen a small, white hand falter, just for a second, before it steadied itself by gripping carefully at the Jack of Hearts.

Nope, not stupid at all.

Matt smirked around his cigarette, leaning in dangerously close now and muttering, as he trailed the fingers of his left hand along the bare skin of Mello's upper arm, “You know you can't hide shit from me, Mel. I've known you too long, been with you too long. In your life, in your apartment... in your bed. _Neither _of you can hide shit from me. I know what you both want. I know how you both like it. I've seen you both _pant._..” Matt stroked his fingertips suggestively towards the sweet spot on Mello's neck.

He also grinned again, and neatly dodged the fist that Mello swung backwards at him.

“I've told you a thousand fucking times,Matt, I don't want to hear about what you and the white freak did after I left Wammy's,” Mello snarled.

Matt just kept on grinning. A spiral of pale ash circled its way down from the tip of his cigarette to fall onto Mello's bare hand, which had come to rest, nails sharp, on Matt's shoulder. Before Mello could swing at him again, though, Matt had moved out of his reach and was seated, spread-legged, upon an upturned box on the floor, roughly in the middle of the space which fell between Mello and Near, but slightly closer to the latter.

Mello swore a little more, probably for the drama of it rather than anything else, seeing as he could be a right girl when he put his mind to it. Then he shook out the magazine, which he had been reading before their conversation had begun, and made as if it were the most interesting thing in the world... even if he were still glaring at it fit to burn holes in the pages.

Matt, meanwhile, had turned his attention onto the other occupant of the room. He knew better than the blow smoke in Near's direction, though, and so he stubbed out his cigarette against the bottom of an empty mug, the rim of which was still laced with cocoa smudges from Mello's lips.

“You do know that smoking kills you?” Near inquired in a mildly curious voice, watching the process clinically.

Matt, finished with the now-crumpled butt, smiled. “Sure,” he responded easily. “But something's going to do me in eventually, right? Better to live how I want, so far as I can see it. What's the point otherwise?”

“The point,” began Near, in a tone that would have done a school teacher proud, but Matt interrupted him by leaning forwards a little, and tracing his thumb down the side of the younger teen's face.

The white-haired boy stared at him for a second, and then glanced towards Mello, who was still sprawled on the couch, still sneering at them angrily from behind his magazine. Near opened his mouth, his expression making it eminently clear that he was about to launch into a lecture about how inappropriate this all was. But Matt, who was in _that_ kind of mood, decided to take Near's opening mouth as an invitation instead, tipping forwards, even closer, to seal those protesting lips with his own.

Near smelt of soap and milk and _Near._ He made a little lost noise beneath the touch of Matt's mouth, and then just sat there, with the house of cards trembling between them. For a lurching moment Matt thought he'd misjudged everything after all – thought that Near wouldn't be able to relax into this, beneath the weight of Mello's furious gaze. Matt had already begun to pull back, in fact, almost apologetically, when Near's mouth shifted at the same time as Matt did, Near's small body skidding forwards almost frantically. The cards tumbled to the left and to the right, and Near's arms latched around Matt's neck before the gamer could move away from him completely.

“Matt...” Near gasped softly against Matt's lips, almost like a plea. Matt slid obligingly from the box to the floor, playing cards bending and twisting beneath his knees, and the world condensed until it was just the two of them – just Near's hands in Matt's hair, just Near's mouth,_ needing_ against Matt's mouth, just their bodies pressing closer and closer together, heated, as Near clutched at him with fingerprints and clinging urgency.

When Matt finally pulled back a little way he smiled, watching Near's tongue dart out to swipe at the dampness trailing from his bottom lip.

Behind them, Mello breathed in loudly.

Matt couldn't see the blond, facing Near as he was, but he knew full well what a turn-on the sight of a well-kissed Near could be, and he didn't need to turn around and look at Mello to know that his best friend would be drinking up the sight. Near glanced briefly at Mello, too, his face hard to read, but then he turned his attention fully back onto Matt. He pressed even closer, forcing the redhead to move until he was sitting Indian-style, so that Near could climb right into his lap, wrap his legs around him, and press his heels in against Matt's backside. Matt's skin was prickling from the combined sensation of Mello's eyes upon them, and the heat of Near wriggling in such close proximity. Matt licked at his own lips, fixed his eyes upon Near's, and tried to explain what it was that he wanted – tried to explain without actually _saying_ it. Tried to explain that he felt the tension between the blond and the albino, but that he wasn't jealous. Tried to explain that he'd been with both of them in the past, and now he wanted both of them in the present. Tried to explain that there was a way combine three chemicals and make the explosion that bit stronger. Near gazed right back at him and simply pushed even closer, rolling his hips in a way that made Matt think he'd understood. Matt's hands pushed their way upwards and beneath Near's shirt, the boy's skin so warm and soft, and god, he'd missed the feel of Near's body beneath his touch, so fucking much. He'd missed the tiny noises Near made, too, as Matt detached his mouth from Near's and slid it down the pale of Near's neck instead; missed the tiny noises Near made as Matt lifted him from his lap and pressed him backwards onto the folded blanket he'd been playing on earlier; missed the tiny noises Near made as Matt's fingers deftly unbuttoned Near's white shirt and laid his upper body bare, kissing and licking and smoothing at it with thumbs and the curves of palms.

Behind them, Mello made a strangled noise, and his magazine dropped to the floorboards with a dull slapping sound. Matt had been moving his knee gently between Near's legs and so he felt it when the younger boy, who had already been noticeably aroused, grew fully hard at the noise Mello had made. Near blushed, his cheeks staining pink with sudden embarrassment and, for a second, he seemed about to try and struggle into a sitting position again. Matt frowned, pressed his knee in slower and firmer against Near's erection, one of his hands splayed against Near's chest to keep him down, then inclined his head and licked at Near's right nipple. “I don't mind,” he explained, out loud now, against the pale skin of Near's trembling chest. “I don't mind. You want him, I want him, I want you, I want _so fucking much_— I'm not jealous. I don't mind.”

Matt meant it, too, he realised, even as Near relaxed back against the blankets again and whimpered softly at the attentions of Matt's hands and mouth and knee. Matt meant it, because he had come to realise that he was incapable of being jealous of two people when he loved them both. Oh, he'd thought about it, thought about it for years, and had presumed that he _would_ be jealous, when it came down to it. But he wasn't, he wasn't and, right here, right now, all he knew was that he just wanted, God, he just wanted the both of them, both of them together and _his.  
_  
Mello's strangled noise sounded again and, now, because of the angle on which he'd lain Near out on the floor, Matt only had to turn his head sideways to gaze at his dark-clad friend. The blond had a strained expression on his face and he was staring at the both of them, almost hungrily, his face flushed, and the heel of one of his hands rubbing at the crotch of his leather pants; Matt suspected Mello wasn't even truly conscious he was doing it. He had his mouth half open, too, as though he wanted to say something but the words just weren't coming out. Mello's mouth closed again, though, with a harsh, hissed breath, when Matt stared him right in the eyes and ran his hand, ever so slowly, down the length of Near's bare chest and beneath the waistband of Near's white trousers.

Mello looked rather as though he'd just choked on his own tongue.

Matt wasn't going to beg, though, and nor was he going to offer up something that wasn't his to give – Near had always been his own property, even back when he'd mewled and purred and bucked up beneath Matt in days gone by. Furthermore, Matt was damned if he was going to make this easy for Mello, simply because the blond could be a stubborn bitch when the mood took him, and Matt thought it would be rather nice to deal out some payback for once. And so he simply smirked at the young man on the couch, promising sex with the glance that he gave him, and then turned his full attention back to the boy spread on the blankets before him. Near pulled his gaze away from Mello, too, pressed one of his slender hands to Matt's face and then nodded slowly, just the once, before reaching down to manoeuvre Matt's belt buckle. Matt let out a happy groan, and had finished undressing Near before Near had even moved to tug Matt's shirt over his head.

God, though, the little noises, the little noises Near made when Matt's hand brushed against his cock. The little noises Near made, when Matt slid, half-naked and his own unbuckled jeans now hanging loose at his hips, down Near's body, and put his mouth there instead. The little noises Near made were making Matt lose his mind. He steadied out one of his hands against Near's soft thigh and stroked his other hand through the white curls that Near's cock jutted out from. He dragged his tongue up its underside, feeling the way sensitive skin grew even smoother, and revelling in the way that Near trembled. When Matt sank his mouth down over the head and wrapped his hand around the base, Near moved with a short gasp of breath, struggling against himself as he tried to buck up, and sit up, all at the same time, and oh god, Matt had forgotten how hot it was that Near liked to _watch_. He hummed against Near's cock as Near managed to half sit, resting backwards on one of his outspread hands, his other hand finding purchase in Matt's hair, tugging and tangling in time to Matt's movements. Matt licked and teased until Near's breath grew ragged, then pulled his mouth away again, making Near grunt petulantly and claw at Matt's hair. Matt just grinned up at him wickedly, closed his hand tighter around Near's cock, which was a darker shade now than the rest of him, and offered his free hand up for Near to suck. Near stopped looking frustrated, his attention wavering slightly at the sudden realisation of just how far Matt wanted to go, and maybe that reminded him of where they were and who was watching them because his eyes darted towards Mello, but then Matt stroked down on him firmly and pressed his thumb towards his balls. Near stopped looking at Mello, his hips jerking upwards,  and he sucked Matt's fingers into his mouth, pulling them deep and swirling his tongue between them. When he released them again, and Matt slid them low to circle one damply against Near's arse, Near moaned behind clenched teeth and lost the battle of trying to watch, his back landing down against the blanket again. When Matt trailed wet fingers to squeeze at Near's balls, Near moaned louder, and Matt kissed his dick again, tonguing it back into his mouth and sucking― 

Near came with a stuttered little cry.

Matt raised his head, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, and grinning, with no small amount of satisfaction, at the boy, spread beneath him, who was gazing up at the ceiling as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. Palming his hand happily against Near's damp, soft dick, he then shifted his hand back downwards, all too aware of the tightness of his own dick, still mostly clad, as it was, in his jeans.

“You're tight,” Matt murmured, the _even though you just came_ going unspoken, the saliva slick tip of one of his fingers working inside of the younger boy, making Near wriggle and sigh in a stuttery way.

“Been... a while... since you...” Near answered slowly, his voice a little shaky from his orgasm. He raised his head to peer down at Matt again, as Matt fumbled amongst his discarded shirt and jacket for the lube he'd been carrying around in his jacket pocket for the last eight fucking-long days. Matt couldn't help but groan at the confirmation of his suspicion that Near had never done these things, which he'd done with Matt when they were younger, with anyone else. Sucking on his lip to keep himself from doing something stupid _(take him now, make him scream, god)_, he tried to keep his mind on the job which was quite literally at hand; his fingers moving and stretching and sinking deep enough to make Near moan, not with discomfort, but quite the opposite. His other hand stroked up and down Near's stomach, counting his ribs, curling at his hips, re-learning the lengths of his body, which was still so familiar, but undeniably affected by the passage of time. He watched with hungry eyes as Near reached down to his soft cock, caressing it with a need that made Matt's stomach heat up even more. “With you, this time,” Near mumbled.

As for Mello, Matt was conscious of his gaze upon them, but he didn't spare him a proper glance until he'd finished pushing his own jeans right off, and his boxers with them. Near's hips were already rising towards him of their own accord, shifting _wantingly_ in Matt's hands, and his cock was already filling with heat again beneath his own touch and his heavy-breathed anticipation; Matt's own cock starting to ache. He wanted to see Mello, though, needed to see Mello, needed to know that he'd been right, needed to know that Mello wanted them both and...

...and the blond had one hand between his legs, the cords of his trousers unbound just enough to give his cock liberty, and he was pumping at it, swift, steady strokes, that seemed to suggest he couldn't have slowed down even if he'd wanted to, and he had his other hand pressed into his mouth, his eyes half-glazed and wild all at once. “God, _Matt, Near,_ God, _fuck,_” he managed in a cracked voice. When he met Matt's naked gaze he gasped into stillness, his back arching against the sofa, and he came against his stomach. Matt moaned at the sight, barely taking the time to wonder whether Mello would have allowed himself to come if Near hadn't already done so, just moaned even louder when he turned his head and caught sight of the smirk that had found its way onto Near's face as the albino drank in view Mello had presented them with. When Mello gazed at them through low-slung lashes, lifted his hand, and licked at his sticky fingers, Near's hips surged upwards again, wanting, requesting, demanding. Matt obliged without further hesitation, groaning as his dick pressed into shifting-muscled heat and God, but this was exactly what he remembered.

Making love with Near wasn't like making love with Mello. It was, contrary to what an outsider might have imagined, were one ever to theorise on the matter for some perverse reason, harder and tighter and faster. Mello might have developed a bit of a thing for cranky sex but, despite all the biting and scratching he indulged in as foreplay some days, once he had Matt inside of him he invariably grew slower and softer and so fucking needy, and of course Matt got off on every minute of it, too. But Near was different. Near took control from beneath, and if one of his slender white legs hooked itself at Matt's shoulder it wasn't to pull him closer in embrace, but to better push himself harder against Matt; to better drag Matt deeper inside of himself. Both boys, Matt knew, lost themselves in sex, but Mello was so gloriously _fuckable_, while Near just wanted to be gloriously _fucked. _

And, God, but he was stronger than he'd been when he was younger, his stamina increased so that he could push himself back against Matt with every thrust that Matt pushed into him, and soon Matt had lost track of everything but Near, Near and the attempt to keep up some kind of heavy rhythm. He was vaguely conscious of the sweat starting to sheen at his sides, and Near's skin already glossing with perspiration, and Near's cock bobbing between them now, so dark, Matt always thought, compared to the rest of him. Near was moaning his name out in a gaspy little chant, over and over and over, and then he was saying, “T-turn me around... t-take me from b-behind...” and it took Matt a few seconds to even register what he had heard, and then a few more before he'd found his brain sufficiently to realise that Near was gazing up at him with huge eyes, flushed and panting and, then, when he had Matt's gaze, he tossed his head meaningfully in Mello's direction.

Matt, to be completely honest, had been so busy swinging between his desire to fuck Near into the floor, and his desire not to come right bloody now, that he had actually managed to half forget that the blond was even there. Now he heaved a breath to steady himself, and looked at Mello. Mello was staring at them openly, no pretence, anymore, of hiding the lust on his face as they fucked in front of him. He had his trousers pushed down further and his hand was working himself up again for a second round, as though the pair of them were a sight for his pleasure alone – Matt had to bite at his tongue to keep his throbbing dick in check at the sight of Mello rolling his hips against his own hand. But then Near said, again, his voice catching, “T-turn me over”, and Matt realised what he wanted, and fuck but it was a struggle to find the control necessary to pull out completely, grab Near by the hips and flip him, turning the both of them in the process, more or less, and then pushing home deep again. Damn, but Matt loved the sight of Near on his hands and knees before him, though, sweat making his shirt rumble up and stick to his shoulders, his bare arse pink from the pressure of where it had been pushed against the blankets, his hips swaying backwards...

“M-Mello,” Near managed, and Matt's hands tightened hard against Near's skin at the sound of that name on the albino's lips. Mello didn't need asking twice anymore, either, flinging himself forwards in a flurry of movement. Before Near had even finished the final syllable of his name, the blond was seated on the box that Matt had sat on earlier. He spread his legs wantonly, but his expression seemed closer to tears than anything else as Near gripped a hand against his knee, moaned, “Matt, _move, please_,” and then enveloped Mello's cock in his mouth.

And Matt, moved, oh, God, Matt _moved_. He hoped that Near had the strength to hold himself up nowadays, seeing as it was all he could do just to grip one of his own hands against the floor for balance, his other hand reaching around to caress Near's cock again, stroking, stroking, swiftly, because he was about to go over the edge himself, and the knowledge that every thrust of his own body was pushing Near's mouth deeper over Mello's cock was boiling his brain. Suddenly it was all too much – Near gasping and sucking, damp sounds sliding hot and obscene – Mello whimpering incoherently, his fingers reaching, reaching to dig nails in against Matt's sweat-damp shoulders – and the tightness, oh, around Matt's own dick, as he thrust again and again – and Matt _came_, all shaking heat and misbehaving muscles, all thanks and sweet salvation, vaguely conscious of Near crying out beneath him with a rough jerk against his hand, vaguely aware of Mello's shaking hands grasping at his shoulders... and then nothing but well-fucked warmth, bodies against his, and the satisfying knowledge that two names could be moaned just as well as one.


End file.
